


The Lighthouse

by teapods



Series: Soulmate AU [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Loss of Virginity, Lots O' Metaphors, Sex, Suicide Attempt, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25163590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapods/pseuds/teapods
Summary: The age at which it begins varies from person to person. For Connie Maheswaran, it was eighteen.In a world where you see your soulmate's memories, Connie struggles to find who her mystery man is.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Series: Soulmate AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828678
Comments: 18
Kudos: 80





	The Lighthouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DepressedCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressedCarrot/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> tw; suicide attempt and character death.

It started when Connie Maheswaran turned eighteen. 

She knew it'd happen eventually; she also knew the age at which it happened varied. While she had never been directly interested, finding her studies more important, a small part of her yearned for the truth. Instead, she drifted idly through life with very little interest in most things. 

She was alive, but she never cared for really living. 

That was, until, the night after she had reached the long-awaited eighteen year check point. It was like any other night; despite the build-up, Connie didn't really feel any different than when she was seventeen. Her routine certainly didn't change: an hour of study, brush teeth, tie up hair, wash face, put on week-day-allocated pajamas and slip into bed for eight hours of dreamless, boring sleep. 

But tonight, her sleep was anything but dreamless. 

Connie knew it was a dream the moment she opened her eyes. Her? That wasn't right... glancing down, she realised she wasn't in her own body. Her hands were tiny, and her prepubescent body was covered by an over-sized red shirt, a bright yellow star embezzled on the front. Whoever she was, she was sat on a beach she didn't recognise. 

Sand cushioned her feet, warm from the soft rays of the evening sun. Gentle waves lapped the shore, fishing boats strung across the horizon like bunting. 

It was... peaceful. Beautiful. Mesmerising. 

It reminded Connie of beach day trips with her parents; the smell of the salty sea air and over-applied sun screen, the sound of young kids screeching and seagulls squawking. This time it was different. While she didn't know whose eyes it was she was looking through, she knew he felt the same peace she did in that moment. 

The usual chaos of beach days was gone, and for the first time in a few years, she finally felt peaceful. 

Connie woke up with a smile on her face. Somehow, today, the days events didn't feel as pressing, the usual anxiety that came to her in the morning suddenly feeling mild. 

That day, she went to a coffee shop for breakfast instead of staying home. The barista was left a generous tip. 

That night, she felt excited to go back to sleep. Obviously she knew what this was; these were the memories of a stranger she was seeing. A man she didn't know and had never met, but they were destined to be together. Somehow, that didn't seem all that daunting. His life seemed peaceful and carefree, full of the childlike wonder and innocence she felt looking through the eyes of his younger self. 

Connie wished she could say it lasted. 

Through the course of a couple weeks, she dreamt of getting cake with a man she assumed was his father, celebrating a fourteenth birthday with a large, happy family, playing ukulele alone in his bedroom, and many, many more quiet moments on the beach. 

Those were her favourite. 

It wasn't until week number three that she heard his voice for the first time. She had once again found herself looking through his eyes when she had fallen asleep that night. When her eyes opened, they were no longer her own. 

This time, he was taller. Bigger. Calloused fingers fiddled with the strings of an acoustic guitar, each pluck and each strum building a melody that entrapped her within the sound. She could feel the press of the metal strings on his fingers, its wooden body pressed against a broad and muscled chest. 

Moments later, he began to sing, and Connie's heart practically leapt into her throat. 

His voice was more beautiful than what she had expected from weeks building up in her head- a deep, masculine sound with the musicality of a songbird. It was pure and unfiltered, sending shivers down a back she didn't own as the blend of the guitar and voice created a sound so foreign to the classical music she was used to. 

Obviously, it was a song she didn't know. But when she woke up, the first thing she found herself doing was frantically googling the lyrics and trying to find it online. 

After a while, she became desperate for just a glimpse of him; maybe in a mirror, or a shop window, or even his reflection in a puddle of rainwater. Anything to put a face on her faceless soulmate. Unfortunately, she had no such luck. 

Connie knew so many intimate details about this man's life, yet she couldn't even give him a name. It felt strange; like an invasion of privacy. Chances were, he had no idea who she was any more than she knew who he was. 

However, she knew that he chewed his lip when he was nervous. She knew he liked bubblegum. She knew he was homeschooled for most of his life. She knew his favourite colour was pink, and he often wore a pink varsity jacket to show off his love for the colour. She knew he often got frustrated with the sheer volume of his fluffy curls. She also knew that, every darned day of his life, he wore some variation of a shirt with a yellow star embezzled on the front. 

Connie Maheswaran wasn't one to dwell on things, but she couldn't help but keep her eye out for a yellow star whenever she went to her college classes, or even whenever she went shopping. Often, she found herself doodling the five pointed shape in the corner of her page when studying. 

It was week six when she learned his name. 

The circumstances were not... favourable. 

Connie went to sleep that night, buzzing with anticipation. Every night she went to sleep she learned something new about him, something that made her yearn even stronger for anything more than just a distant memory from his past. She'd do anything for just a conversation with him. She'd do anything to see his face, the face of her soulmate. 

That night, when she went to sleep, her eyes opened to a dark room she didn't recognise. Somehow, she knew this memory had been recent. 

Morning light filtered in through the cracks in the blinds, casting a golden hue on the bedroom she found herself standing in. The alarm clock on the nightstand displayed a blinking 6am. He hurriedly picked a familiar black star-embezzled shirt off the ground, pulling it over his head and tugging it down to cover a toned chest. His head whipped around in a search for his shoes, breathing a sigh of relief when he spotted them in the corner of the room. 

Ragged panting slowed down as he crept over to the door in an attempt to be silent, hooking his black denim jacket under his arm. He reached for the door- he was almost free! 

"Where are you going?" 

He jumped, a squeak of surprise escaping him. 

Accepting the fact he'd been caught, he sighed, turning around and revealing a naked dark skinned girl strewn out on the bed, her dignity covered by a thin sheet. She was lithe and beautiful, olive skin and black, straight hair glowing golden in the light from the window. Dark eyes raked over his body. Connie's heart skipped a beat. 

"I'm sorry, I don't... I don't usually do this." He spoke, swallowing. 

"What, have sex? I gathered as much." The girl snickered, a smile blossoming on her face. "Come back to bed! We barely got to talk yesterday, and um... I like you." 

He felt conflicted for a moment, a jittery feeling rooting itself in the pit of his stomach. The door was right behind him, if he could just... 

"I really think I should go." He breathed. The girl's face fell slightly. 

"Steven, please... you're like one of the sweetest guys ever- you wouldn't leave a girl the morning after, would you?"

Steven looked down shamefully. 

"I'm sorry. You're great, but... I was drunk and if I was in my right mind I never would have done this." 

"Fine, whatever. Throw me a ciggie on your way out." 

Connie went through her day with a sour taste in her mouth after that. Sure, maybe this was to be expected. He was an adult, and he was in his right to do what he wanted. Just because she was a virgin didn't mean her promised had to be. 

They had plenty of time. 

Well, that didn't mean she often didn't find herself daydreaming about this... Steven. How they would meet and live happily ever after. How she would wake up each morning next to a broad chested, muscular man with fluffy hair and a love for the beach and music. Nothing is set in stone, but the lack of romance in her life let her mind wander. 

What would their first meeting be like? Would it be a cheesy teen romance 'kiss in the rain while the world passes you by' moment? Would it be a classy coffee shop meet-cute? Just imagine- they both order the same thing, lock eyes, and spend the rest of their lives together. 

Okay, wow, she really needed to calm down. She didn't even know what his face looked like! 

On week nine, Connie was beginning to grow impatient. 

Every night she saw the world through his eyes, and yet could barely figure out who Steven was and where she could find him. She needed to clear her head. 

Which is why she soon found herself getting into her dad's car (with permission, of course), and driving down to Beach City. She remembered going there when she was very young, vague memories of arcades and boardwalks and shorelines dancing in the back of her mind. 

Connie drove with the desire for the same peace she felt when she was looking through the eyes of Steven's younger self- the very first memory she ever experienced of him. She wanted to be as carefree and tranquil as that moment was. For a moment, she wanted to forget all about school, all about Steven, and simply just exist. Free from strife, free from worry. 

It was just as beautiful as she remembered. 

Sand cushioned her feet, warm from the soft rays of the evening sun. Gentle waves lapped the shore, fishing boats strung across the horizon like bunting. Seagulls cried and squawked; kids laughed and played nearby. 

Connie walked the entirety of the beach alone with nothing but an empty mind and the company of the sea. She kept walking, mesmerised by the sight of the setting sun and peachy sky. 

She walked until she spotted a separate area of the beach- covered entirely by a long chain-link fence. One she didn't remember. Had she been here before? 

Confused, she spotted another passer-by, asking why this part of the beach had been sectioned off. 

"Oh it's a super gnarly story." The man said. "There was this family living there- super friendly-, but after the kid's mom was killed a while back, they sectioned it off. Privacy issue or something. The kid's older now, but I haven't seen him in a while. Shame really, he was a sweet guy." 

Connie Maheswaran wasn't one to dwell on things. 

But, for some reason, this story plagued her mind for the rest of her day. Her whole life had been like the one of a background character in a movie; boring and completely forgettable. She had never known and excitement or any tragedy- which was probably why this kid's life had left such an impression. 

That night, Connie fell asleep hoping that, wherever that kid was now, he was happy. 

It was a hopeful notion. A positive note to end on before she fell asleep and had another dream through the eyes of Steven; maybe she'd once again find herself on that beach. Maybe he would sing again. Maybe, just maybe, she'd find another clue to who Steven was. 

But when her eyes opened, she was crying. 

Dark clouds rolled over the sky, blocking out the sun, leaving Steven in their shadow. Raindrops sprinkled down, the occasional one landing in his eye and causing him to rub it furiously. Something told her that this memory was even more recent than the last. 

He was knelt over a gravestone, the name 'Rose DeMayo' chiselled on its front. His knees were wet from the damp grass. His dark hair fell in front of his eyes, causing him to occasionally sweep it away with a trembling hand. 

Steven jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He whipped his head around, revealing a solemn looking pale woman with peach coloured hair. 

"I don't need you to baby me, Pearl. I'm twenty years old." 

Pearl sighed. 

"She wouldn't want you to be sad, Steven." 

"Yeah? Well she probably wouldn't want to be dead either." 

Pearl flinched, removing her hand from his shoulder. She linked her fingers together, her thumbs twiddling uncomfortably. The silence felt deafening, as if one of them were desperate to say something. Anything. 

But sometimes, some things are best left unspoken. 

Pearl turned around and walked away, leaving a deep feeling of guilt and humiliation rooted in the pit of his stomach. He was unnecessarily harsh, he knew that. But Pearl's constant coddling was becoming incessantly irritating. 

Steven's right hand reached out, landing on top of the smooth stone. 

That's when Connie noticed something new- something she hadn't seen before. 

Half of Steven's ring finger was gone. 

"I'll apologise later." He whispered. "I wish you could tell me what to do, Mom. You always knew what to do..." 

He stood up, a sigh escaping his lips. Thunder crackled in the distance, and he knew it was time to go. Sorrow caused his head to hurt as he turned to walk away. Something, he didn't know what, was pulling him back, as if he owed his deceased mother something. It wasn't like he could do much for her; she was six feet under now. 

Steven glanced down at a nearby puddle of rainwater. He stared down his reflection, a gaze filled with hatred and attribution. 

For the first time, Connie saw Steven's face. A face round and masculine, a small and dimpled nose, piercing dark eyes and large curly hair. He was... handsome. But his expression was ugly. She had never seen someone look at their own reflection with such antipathy and bitterness. 

He walked away, not noticing the pink varsity jacket he had left strewn beside the tombstone. 

Connie awoke with a start, her heart beating furiously against her ribcage. 

Moments later, she sat in her kitchen, sipping coffee with trembling fingers. Connie Maheswaran wasn't one to dwell on things. But his face was the only thing that had been on her mind for the past hour. 

Not to mention the finger... things were starting to not make sense. What on earth happened to him? 

It was week thirteen when Connie got her answer. 

When she woke up that Saturday morning, she expected nothing more than to idly go through her daily routine before once again finding herself in bed, awaiting answers. She woke up, had breakfast, brushed her teeth, went for a run, showered, and studied for a few hours. 

Bored, she lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do with her Saturday. It was around 12am, so she had plenty of time. 

It wasn't like she had any friends she could call to arrange a hang-out. She wasn't exactly sociable. Her days were spent being as bored as her boring personality allowed. No classes, no work, no friends... Saturdays were the worst. 

That was how she found herself driving back to Beach City. 

With nothing more than her license and a couple bucks, Connie drove all the way there, Steven's song playing full blast on the stereo on repeat. Something, she couldn't understand what, seemed to call her back there. Whether it was boredom or something else, she pushed it to the back of her mind as she continued to drive. 

And, once again, Connie Maheswaran found herself on that beach. 

Sand cushioned her feet, warm from the soft rays of the evening sun. Gentle waves lapped the shore, fishing boats strung across the horizon like bunting. However, this time, the beach was empty. A deserted landscape, haunted by the echoes of children's laughter. 

This time, she struggled to find that peace she previously so desperately searched for. Her head was too full; plagued by images of Steven's cold stare and severed finger. 

She sighed, ready to head back home when something caught in the corner of her eye. A tower of red and white, overlooking the ocean from the top of the cliffside. 

The lighthouse. 

Words can't describe the incredible pull she felt looking up at the symbol of safety. She was a moth to a flame; a magnet to a fridge. Her mind no longer controlled her limbs as her legs began to move, beginning the gradual climb to the top of the hill, and towards the lighthouse. 

Connie Maheswaran loved being in control; organisation and punctuality were her strong suits (she usually ignored people who called her bossy or paranoid). However, as this invisible force led her towards the lighthouse, she had nothing but admission for it. Not a fight, not a complaint. Just... compliance. 

The base of the lighthouse soon came into view. 

This time, she spotted something new. 

Connie quickened her pace, falling into a steady jog as she approached this foreign object. It was small and completely unnoticeable if you didn't have a keen eye like Connie's. She certainly had a knack for details. 

Her steady jog came to an abrupt stop as she realised what the object in question was. She froze, her limbs quickly becoming isolated by her mind, her blood running icy through her veins. She exhaled a cold breath, the phantom of a shiver crawling down her spine. 

A gravestone. 

With a pink varsity jacket carelessly strewn beside it; abandoned, forgotten. 

That night, Connie struggled to fall asleep. A vital piece of information had come to light that day. Steven was from Beach City. He was there. Somewhere. Alone. Suffering. 

When she eventually managed to fall asleep, her dream was once again another memory. But this time, it resembled a nightmare more than anything. 

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" 

Eight-year-old Steven whimpered in terror, his eyes squeezing shut. 

Heart in his throat, his eye cracked open to look up at his mother, who looked just as terrified as he was. She stood behind him, both their hands held hastily above their heads. 

Running errands wasn't supposed to be difficult. Rose did nothing more than take a trip to the bank, bringing her son with her because the sitter had cancelled last minute. But now, she wished more than anything that she had tried just a little harder to find someone to look after him. A mother's worst nightmare was having her child in danger. 

And now, she and Steven were being held hostage by a crazed terrorist with a gun. 

The man shot a single bullet into the air, the bang causing Steven to begin to wail, crying harder as the shell casing clattered onto the linoleum floor. 

Panic rose through her as she struggled to quieten him down, but to no avail. The man turned to them. 

"Tell the kid to shut up!" He growled. "Any more of this and I'll stick a bullet between his eyes!" 

Rose hurriedly shushed him, but his crying only seemed to get worse. The man glared, his eyes blazing through his cheap mask. 

In that moment, time seemed to slow down. 

In Steven's young mind, everything happened too quickly, events piling on one another in a rapid succession of tragedy. He couldn't comprehend much. However, he would always, for the rest of his life, remember his mother pushing his body to the ground. He would always remember the ringing in his ears from the gunshot. He would always remember the exploding pain in his ring finger and the splatter of blood behind him. 

He would always remember the vacant eyes of his mother as he screamed and cried, frantically begging and praying for her to wake up, despite her neck and chest having been blown apart. 

He would always remember the ride home in the back of that ambulance. 

His finger was gone. His mother was gone. 

The shock began to wear off when he was halfway back home. The ambulance crew had placed a white sheet over his mother's corpse. It was all his fault. His dad was going to hate him. 

Quietly, Steven began to cry. 

Connie woke up screaming. 

Wildly, she threw her blanket off of her and raced down to the bathroom, suddenly collapsing and dry heaving over the toilet bowl. A cold sweat pricked at her skin, sobs raking through her in waves of horror. 

Tears formed in her eyes, but never once fell. 

"Connie?! Oh goodness, what happened- are you okay?!" 

Priyanka Maheswaran was a calm and collected woman. She didn't usually tend to overreact to most things, always knowing how to keep a level head and deal with any situation rationally. It was how she'd met her husband, and how she'd raised her daughter. 

But all caution was thrown from the window at the sight of Connie dry heaving into a toilet bowl, limbs strewn out and weeping. 

Connie regained her breath, swallowing hard and turning to look at her mother. Priyanka settled beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. It wasn't enough- Connie lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her mother, causing her to flinch in surprise. 

"Connie... what's wrong?" 

"Mom... before you met Dad, did you ever see any of his memories?" 

"We're soulmates. Of course I did." 

"Were any of them..." Connie paused. "The most horrifying thing you've ever seen?" 

Priyanka did a double-take, blinking rapidly as she stared at Connie in disbelief. 

"Have you started seeing your soulmate's memories already?" She whispered. Connie sighed, nodding her head slowly. 

"His name is Steven. I just watched his mother die." 

Sympathetic, Priyanka let a solemn smile form on her face. Connie glanced at her in confusion, using one hand to palm her eyes dry. 

"Your father hasn't had the greatest life either. There were times where I wondered if someone as irresponsible and as immature as he used to be was really my soulmate. But... after we met, I realised he was only like that because he was in pain. Then, we got to know each other, and we grew together. Eventually, I started having normal dreams again." 

"Thanks, Mom." Connie breathed. "I think I'll be alright." 

"Hopefully we'll get to meet this soulmate of yours soon."

"I hope so too. He likes music and bubblegum and going to the beach. He's really sweet. I think you'd like him." 

Priyanka stood up, helping her daughter to her feet. They shared a smile; an intimate moment of bonding that rarely happened between the two. Connie's mother left the bathroom, feeling a little warmer than she had in a long time. 

Sighing, Connie reached into the cabinet above the sink and took out a zolpidem, downing it dry before heading back to bed. The alarm clock on her nightstand displayed 3:21am. She noticed this and told herself that, for the first time, she'd let herself sleep in the next day. She felt a strange peace with herself as her eyes drifted closed, falling into a deep slumber. 

It lasted around twenty minutes. 

The alarm clock on her nightstand displayed 3:43am as she sprinted around the house, hastily grabbing her phone and keys, haphazardly pulling on her shoes and fumbling into her Dad's car. Connie Maheswaran had one destination in mind: the lighthouse. 

That god-forsaken lighthouse. 

Driving at night was something that Connie had never been that fond of. She didn't like how dark it was- having her headlights on didn't provide much comfort. But now, in the pitch black, her path illuminated by the moon and stars, Connie felt no grievances. Even with her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard they shook and the painful lump in her throat, she wanted nothing more than to go faster.

Her mind raced with all the things she took for granted in her life, and what would happen if she ever lost any of it. Or if any of it lost her. It was a paradox really; lose the things you love or watch them lose you. One name bounced around her head at that thought.

Steven. Steven Steven Steven. 

She thought of his calloused fingers, his fluffy hair, his melodic laughter, his stupid star-embezzled shirts. She thought about what would happen if she were to lose it- before she even got to meet him. One conversation. That's all she needed. 

That's why she didn't bother parking when she arrived. 

Doug's car was left beeping at the bottom of the hill, headlights still on and music still drifting out. Connie's legs hurt by the time she reached the bottom of the lighthouse, but she didn't dare stop to rest. Not for a moment. One second was all it took- one moment of hesitation, one moment of trepidation and it was all over. 

Her feet pounded against the seemingly endless steps as she made her way towards the top of the lighthouse, the sound of her steps echoing throughout the vast monument. It was ironic, really. Lighthouses; a symbol of safety, and yet she felt like she was going to die at any moment. Her heart thumped in her chest, her skin was slick with nervous sweat, her ears were burning with fear, dread churning at the bottom of her stomach. 

Finally, she saw it. The door. The liminal space between life and death. 

Connie threw the door open, flinching as it slammed against the wall. 

"STOP!" She screamed, her voice cracking unceremoniously. 

Steven's silhouette was dark against the light of the sun rising against the horizon. He faced away from her, legs on the wrong side of the railing. He gasped at the sound of her voice, slowly turning his face to look at her. 

He looked so beautiful- the golden light reflecting off his skin, his hair swaying softly in the gentle breeze. 

"Connie." He exhaled. "What are you doing here?" His eyes glistened with unshed tears. 

"You- you can't do this!" She choked on a sob. "How could you leave me, huh? How?! How can you die without having ever even talked to me!" 

Steven's gaze softened, his tears beginning to drip down his cheeks. 

"I'm a monster, Connie. I hurt everyone. My mom died because of me. My entire family blames me, I know they do. I don't have friends. I'm going to disappear with nothing more than a trail of pain to prove I ever existed." 

"You're wrong!" She cried. "You have me! I'm your soulmate- I've seen everything you've been through... every night I go to sleep, I see all the pain you've experienced. But, not once, have I ever thought that any of it was your fault." 

Steven looked hesitant, a war of indecision raging behind his eyes. He looked down at the ground below. One second, and it would all be over. 

He just had to... let go. 

"Really?" He whispered, voice breaking as a sob raked through him. 

Slowly, carefully, determinedly, Connie reached out a hand. Her eyes bore into his own, begging him to take it. 

"You're not a monster, Steven." She spoke gently. "You're my soulmate." 

Steven looked at Connie, her frazzled hair and messy clothes. In that moment, she had never looked more beautiful. 

"You're really pretty." He smiled. 

"So are you." She breathed. 

"Do you..." A moment of hesitation. "Do you really mean what you said?" A moment of trepidation. 

"I've never meant anything more in my life." Her voice was strong, not an ounce of indecision underlying beneath. "Give us a chance, Steven. Give me a chance." 

He gulped, his eyes darting back and forth between her outstretched hand and the promise of freedom below. 

Once again, Steven Universe found himself in the liminal space between life and death. A fragile limbo. One way was eternal peace and a promise of no more pain. The other way was eternal struggle and a fight to be happy. 

He looked at Connie. He looked at the ground. 

Trembling, he reached out, taking Connie's hand with an iron grip. 

Steven chooses life.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please leave a review, constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> haha lighthouse go brrrrr


End file.
